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3:00 AM — Queens, New York
The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.
Peter Parker crept down the hallway like a cartoon burglar, knees bent, arms out, socks silently skimming over the hardwood floor. The floor creaked in exactly three places between his bedroom and the kitchen—he skipped each one with the grace of a ballet-trained ninja.
Why the stealth?
Because Aunt May was asleep in the next room, and she had light sleeper energy and Olympic-level mom hearing.
And Peter?
Peter was on a mission.
A top-secret, high-priority, incredibly serious mission.
Cereal.
Not just any cereal. The good stuff. The sugary, rainbow-colored kind with little marshmallows that tasted like unicorn dreams and childhood trauma.
He cracked open the pantry like he was cracking a safe.
Step One: Cereal acquired.
Step Two: Pour cereal.
He did.
Step Three: Add milk and achieve peak human joy.
Peter opened the fridge.
He froze.
No milk.
Not even a drop. Not even expired oat milk pretending to be helpful.
Just a lonely bottle of ketchup, half a lemon in a Ziploc, and a suspicious Tupperware container that Peter might’ve started a month ago.
His soul left his body.
“Are you kidding me?” he whispered. “I just—this is—I fought aliens for this city. This is betrayal.”
He closed the fridge. Opened it again. Like maybe, maybe the milk would appear out of guilt.
It did not.
He closed the door slowly. “Okay. Okay. I’ll just… walk to the store.”
He checked his phone.
3:04 AM.
The only open store was twenty minutes away… on foot.
Or…
One minute away by swing.
Peter turned toward his closet like it had spoken his name.
“…I’ll be fast. She’ll never know.”
3:08 AM — Fire Escape
Peter, in full Spider-Man gear (with a hoodie over it to look less suspicious), slipped out the window. His backpack bounced lightly behind him, cereal inside.
He muttered, “Stealth. Precision. No witnesses.”
He zipped off the fire escape, launched himself into the air, and began web-swinging toward the corner store.
The wind in his face, the city lights glowing below—it was almost peaceful.
Almost.
Buzz. Incoming Call: Stark (and also Potts).
Peter groaned mid-swing. “Oh come on.”
He accepted the call.
“Hi, Mr. Stark. And Ms. Potts,” he added sheepishly.
Tony’s voice crackled in. “Helmet cam just turned on. FRIDAY pinged me. You're in the suit. You're webbing through Queens. It’s three in the morning. Explain.”
“I… ran out of milk,” Peter admitted.
There was a very long pause.
“For cereal?” Tony asked.
“Yes.”
“At THREE IN THE—”
“Tony,” Pepper’s tired voice interrupted, “volume.”
Tony lowered his voice to a sarcastic growl. “You’re in a billion-dollar armored onesie doing a MILK RUN, kid.”
“I was hungry!” Peter defended. “I didn’t want to walk twenty minutes. And I didn’t want to wake May. She’d kill me if she knew I was out.”
“She’d also kill me if she knew you’re out, which means now I’m involved in this dairy crime,” Tony muttered.
Pepper sighed. “This is the fourth time this month.”
“I know,” Peter groaned. “I just didn’t plan right.”
“You’re lucky you’re adorable,” she said.
Tony added, “Debatable.”
3:15 AM — The Random Shop
Peter dropped onto the rooftop above the store, flipped down to the alley, and strolled in like buying milk in spandex was completely normal.
The cashier barely glanced up.
“Spider-Man,” they said.
Peter nodded solemnly. “Even superheroes need cereal.”
He grabbed a 3-litre bottle of milk, a bag of mini marshmallows (in case the box had a marshmallow-to-cereal ratio crisis), a chocolate bar (emotional support snack), and—for no real reason—a $6 pack of gum.
The cashier scanned everything, then muttered, “That’ll be twenty bucks.”
Peter stared. “…What in the world has inflation done?”
“Broke us all,” the cashier replied without emotion.
Peter sighed, handed over the money, and walked out defeated. “I saved the city for this…”
3:17 AM — Rooftop Again
Tony’s voice returned the moment Peter hit the roof.
“You know I’m going to tell May, right?”
“Nooo,” Peter groaned. “Can it be, like, five years from now?”
“You’ll be in college and she’ll still ground you.”
Pepper chimed in, “You know what we should do? Install a grocery tracker in the suit.”
“No!” Peter said quickly. “No, please don’t let my suit nag me about milk.”
Tony laughed. “Too late. It’s already on the to-do list. Name: ‘Milk Alert 9000.’”
“I hate it here,” Peter muttered, swinging home.
3:23 AM — The Return
Peter landed softly on the fire escape. Victory was within reach.
He opened the window.
BUMP.
A stack of books fell off the sill.
THUD.
Peter’s soul left his body for the second time that night.
A light flipped on.
“Peter?” May’s voice called, groggy and skeptical.
PANIC.
He darted inside, grabbed the cereal and milk, and sprinted to the kitchen.
He poured a bowl at Mach speed, nearly spilling half the box, and shoved a spoonful into his mouth.
May shuffled into the kitchen in a robe, blinking like a confused owl.
“…Are you eating cereal?”
Peter, mouth full, nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
“Where’d the milk come from? We ran out.”
Peter paused. Swallowed. “Mr. Stark sent some.”
“…At three in the morning?”
“He’s very committed to teen nutrition.”
May stared at him like she knew exactly 50% of the truth.
Peter offered her a bowl. “Want some?”
She sighed, grabbed a glass of water, and turned to go. “Just clean up after yourself. And don’t web the silverware drawer again.”
“It was one time!”
“And yet.”
3:35 AM — Peter’s Room
Peter collapsed into bed, hoodie off, cereal inside him, pride intact.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Tony Stark:
Nice save, spy-kid. But I’m sending groceries tomorrow. You’re clearly not responsible enough to own milk.
Peter Parker:
Agreed. Thank you.
Also I may have eaten the entire bowl in under 60 seconds.
Tony Stark:
Proud of you. Now sleep. Before you make me activate the nap protocol.
Pepper Potts:
We’re sending a care package. And putting a sticky note on the fridge that says “CALL US BEFORE MILK-RELATED CRIMES.”
Peter Parker:
Yes, ma’am. Goodnight, both of you.
Peter curled under the blanket, warm and full and smiling.
4:00 AM — Stark Tower
Pepper turned to Tony, arms crossed.
“He’s fifteen, Tony.”
“He’s hungry and growing.”
“He’s web-slinging at 3AM for cereal.”
“He didn’t even get arrested this time! Progress!”
Pepper gave him the Mom Stare™. “No more midnight cereal missions. Set the suit to lock him out after 2AM.”
Tony sighed. “Fine.”
Pause.
“…Unless it’s for cookies.”
“Tony.”
“Okay! Okay. I’m parenting. Look at me go.”